Best Dependency Poems
Opening the door onto your secret,
my heart pounds at the display of old wounds.
Healing achieved by clinging to nothing—
a future only obliquely glimpsed.
My heart pounds at the display of old wounds
where other’s careless words and barbs had pierced.
A future only obliquely glimpsed
through a whiskey bottle nearly empty.
Where other’s careless words and barbs had pierced,
going through life like that makes one anxious.
Through a whiskey bottle nearly empty,
discontent is always triggered by something.
Going through life like that makes one anxious;
healing achieved by clinging to nothing.
Discontent is always triggered by something—
opening the door onto your secret.
What you do does me.
What you say says me.
What you smell smells me and
what you taste tastes me
until there's no me left
to feel.
mind numbing pain free
without meds where would we be
old school misery
whiskey for an amputee
biting sticks in agony
Now social networks
Before tea-room social chat –
IT changes us
Single views are flawed
Life is grey not black and white-
Harmony spawns hope
Computer jargon
Academic rhetoric –
Actions not words count
Appeared in ACM SIGCAS Computers & Society, June 2015, Vol. 45 No. 2, p4.
Poetry Soup Featured Poem: April 12, 2021
Pathological neurotic co-dependency,
Rhymes with toilet brush gastroendoscopy,
I visualise that toilet brush,
Shoved down his throat thrush,
Or up his male tush,
Not even an excuse for a man,
Bullies don't get, says my nan,
Way too early to be awake,
Way too early to cook him steak,
What does he think he's going to eat?
That toilet brush he'll meet and greet,
Pathological neurotic co-dependency,
Rhymes with toilet brush gastroendoscopy,
All budget friendly and medicine free,
(Guess who swallowed the dictionary!!!)
Before – when you were here,
I complained. Thoughtlessly.
I had no complaints – I was miserable.
Brushing the depths to see your reflection,
I have no interest.
My reflection is on the surface, I see no smile –
A drug? To make you see yourself –
They call it what?
Say it –
Before – when you were here,
Love fell around in mud caused by tears,
Not mine, though, yours, my creation I suppose.
Your drug tells you of life – and you grow?
Now you’re strong? Now you see yourself in the reflection,
Unfortunately I’m gone.
I have no interest –
I’m the damned one. I saw another point of view.
Before – when you were here,
I complained. Thoughtlessly.
We sit in a loose circle, always ready to shift,
or offer our place for a late-arriver;
just another soul who's been left adrift
in this sea of turmoil, just another survivor.
We talk, well, some do, but some don't;
but we all listen.... that's for certain,
because where we've been, others won't,
I think that's another reason we're always hurting.
Why do they do all that stuff??!!? We sure wish we knew.
We can never understand it, like, what's the big lure?
In the end, all that stuff just leaves us feeling so blue.
It's a damn shame, there isn't a cure, that's for sure.
I guess, we are as close as we'll come,
to a cure, that is, for this loose circle of people sharing,
but it only works for some.
But at least, at least, there's always the caring.
We give that to each other, the others,
in this loose circle, the ones who can speak,
or can't speak, about their husbands, or wives or fathers or mothers,
well, some people only want to go over their crummy week.
Which is fine...because there's always something to learn,
if you listen, really listen with an open heart,
you can hear someone's life start to make a real turn
for the better, well, sometimes just only a start.
Like Step 1, where they say that WE have no power.
Hell, everyone knows that, don't they? I mean,
you don't really need to hear people talk for an hour
to know that, heck, it's like saying trees are green.
We repeat those steps, numbers one through twelve
even though other people ask us, "Why do YOU have to?"
Well, because we too, have to look deep into ourselves,
or we'd spend all out time thinking about "Y-o-u k-n-o-w w-h-o".
Shhhhh,. You know, the ones with 'A-N-O-N-Y-M-I-T-Y',
the ones with no consonants in the name that they use,
not like us; our name sounds like a Middle Eastern city.
But that's okay with me, because I don't need an excuse.
I KNOW I need to be here, with the other survivors,
moving chairs around, or giving up my spot
in the loose circle for another late-arriver,
because, well, my spot and this circle, are really all that I've got.
Falling for a guy can be bittersweet. You meet, you talk, you laugh. Then you doubt, you cry, you get distant. But there is no reason that you know of as to why you feel this way. It all seems good, you guys seem like you're in a good place, but there is a sprinkle of doubt. You don't know what to do so you just ignore it. The more you ignore it, the more you fall for him. The more you enjoy hearing him just rambling on about his passions. It's cute to you. It's the first guy that you feel that you like him not for his looks, but for his personality. One day you realize that it's not as good as when you first started talking to him. You don't laugh as much anymore. You don't have late night phone calls anymore but you crave them more and more every day. You feel like your day can't end without talking to him on the phone at least once every day. You cry because you don't know what to do. The worst part is that he warned you from the beginning that he doesn't want anything serious. But you think he'll change his mind. That's when it gets bad. That's when you become dependent. That's when all hell breaks loose. At least in your mind. You begin to overthink about everything. Every little thing that honestly doesn't even matter but matters because you think you did something that ruined it all. Even something so little like wanting to hang out with him. You feel like you're trying too hard, which causes you to become distant when really there is no reason to be. It's just your mind playing games with you... Or maybe it's you falling for him, hard and fast. You're scared you'll be rejected, and you know you already are since the day you met him because he told you he doesn't want a relationship. But will he at one point? That's the question you ask yourself every moment of the day. It's all you think about. You try to get your mind off of him but everything you see reminds you of him. You want him, but you know you can't have him. You're jealous when he says he's going to hang out with some girls, but you're not allowed to be because he's not yours. No, the worst part is, it's only been three weeks since you met him. And maybe you've already fallen for him, and it all goes downhill from here.
Some say love makes the world go round
I say it is oil that makes the world go round
The thing that is in everything
from plastics to fuel is how it does rule
so given this thought here is your opportunity
to have your say in a different way
Where’s your stand on the Keystone pipeline
moving dirty Alberta oil from Canada to Texas
Or fracking that shakes the earth
and plays with the water table
how about drilling in national parks
and protected wetlands or in oceans and seas
the carbon footprint that fossil fuels leave
and our slavery to BIG oil and high gas prices
but what of the flip side
the oil cartels called OPEC alongside Mr. Putin
does the blackmailing by the few
through oil dependency offset the risks
that is the question to be answered
Andreas Simic©
I know that it wasn’t your choice.
This desire was coursing through your veins
the very minute your little heart beat for the first time.
It was a part of you before you spoke your first word.
Before you could say no.
Before you could distinguish right from wrong, it became right.
This monster rears its ugly head every day.
Every single day.
You’ve found your escape.
But the beast is hungry for more
and preying on the void that you continue to fill
with the very thing that satisfies its appetite.
Triangulation strangulation
can you live up to the competition
add gas lighting and narcissism
a very frightening composition
Muster up to the cluster B
find yourself discarded like a soiled sheet
devoid of compassion
lack of empathy
once you really see
past the screen
the mask has slipped
and so many have peeked
now you panic
validation you need
so you pray on young
dumb nieve and weak
seek out a victim
to bleed dry and supply your need
your needs for weed dont come cheap
pull the supply and see the demon freak
neurotic psycotic rage and crazy speak
implant viral seeds a vile display
and then you leave.
Form:
The drone of machines goes on and on
with the endless cry of the ward sisters song
energy rises like billowing smoke
with fiery glances to the ones who dare choke.
Invisible hand undertake their chores
over the barks and commands of the insistent roars.
The sick and the fallen lie still in their beds
as the army of staff turn it all on their heads.
Rigorous routine steps up a pace
to the onslaught of pressure that's put on this place
Healing and harmony must still exist
It's the law of the land, that one must insist.
So many bodies, so many hands
dancing to orders, between the commands
And so it continues day after day
In this battlefield tent, where the injured must stay.
Be Lineate Sir
Jack and Jill went up a hill. Time to take another pill.
Bobby needs a sympathizer Why no try a tranquilizer?
God is good, and God is great. Take your opioid at eight.
Aunties lived a life of sin. Ease her mind with aspirin.
Pa’s been to long at the Jug Dose him good with a wonder drug.
It is a shame what some folks do; But Fentanyl won’t bother you.
God in heaven answers prayer; My liver pills are green and square.
We are to earth, God’s Testament. I rub my joints with liniment.
You are my church
I am on my knees for you
Bowing my head
I pray I pray I pray for your peace
I throw coins at your pleas for reconstruction
Your congregation look at me with sympathetic eyes
I make sacrifice after sacrifice
Because I have faith
I am your church
You beg for forgiveness
Knowing my doors are always open
You find comfort and shelter
And repent your sins
The familiar scent of incense and woodwork that has withstood centuries of turmoil make you feel immortal
But one more tear of wax from the candle
May finally set this shrine ablaze
Forgive me, mother for I have sinned,
I will chant a drunken hymn:
Virgin Mary, seduce me with salvation
from my daily woes! I everso
Crave to be delivered from the damnation
That tears me, so.
The fire in my chest
Balls up all my sorrow
The cinnamon embers warm my breast
Whispering the empty promises of tomorrow.
The liquid stream rages forward,
With the inhibitions swept and drowned.
I can finally see colour in my world,
Waiting for the beating to crash down.
My name has been stripped from a glass,
My precious ones see a stumbling ass,
With even fewer looking back.
All I have left is you; my bottle of Jack.